


John has Noticed

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Dom John, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Gags, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sub Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: 'John has noticed, of course he has. The way that Sherlock looks at him when he takes charge, when he pulled rank at the army base, or told Mycroft off. Much as Sherlock likes to boss him around, whenever John takes that 'no prisoners, I'm in charge' tone Sherlock looks at him with sheer adoration.'





	John has Noticed

**Author's Note:**

> I had the start of this on my phone for ages, then today decided to finish it and wrote the second half all in one go.
> 
> Only briefly edited so I hope there are no mistakes, sorry if there are.

John has noticed, of course he has. The way that Sherlock looks at him when he takes charge, when he pulled rank at the army base, or told Mycroft off. Much as Sherlock likes to boss him around, whenever John takes that 'no prisoners, I'm in charge' tone Sherlock looks at him with sheer adoration.

The man doesn't realise that he knows, he seems to think John is totally unobservant, maybe he is right, but not when it comes to observing a certain dark haired, six foot, skinny detective.

They finally took the step two months ago, friends becoming lover's, flatmates to partners, Sherlock's room becoming their room. Their first gentle tentative kiss leading to hurried touches, gasping orgasms and love declarations. Since then their lovemaking has been sweet and tender. Sherlock's almost total lack of experience causing John to be careful of his lover, not rushing or hurrying him. The first time that John had taken him, pushing slowly into the man to make him his own, Sherlock had cried silent tears of joy at the feeling of being owned, that someone truly wanted him.

Now that they have tried almost every possible position and Sherlock seems more comfortable with his sexuality, no longer trying to hide his face or the sounds he makes as he climaxes, John has decided that Sherlock may be ready for something different.

\---

They have had breakfast, showered and dressed and were just about to head out to the crime scene when Lestrade calls.

Hanging up Sherlock throws the phone across the room "What sort of criminal sets up a nearly perfect crime then walks into a police station and confesses?" He cries, slumping into his chair and John can see the signs of an impending sulk. Now is a good time for his plan.

"Bored?" He asks with amusement, it has after all been all of 20 seconds since Sherlock found the case was closed.

"Yes, my brain is dying." Sherlock says dramatically.

"I have an idea of something we could do." John says, licking his lips and staring hungrily into Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock's breathing becomes deeper, he bites his bottom lip and then smiles widely. "Yes please." He breathes. 

John takes his hand and pulls the tall man out of his chair, leading him to the bedroom. He closes the door firmly behind them and then pushes Sherlock against it devouring his mouth, tasting him and holding him steady with strong hands.

Sherlock is panting with desire and tries to push John towards the bed, he is tugging at John's shirt to pull it free from his trousers.

John shoves him hard back against the door "No!" He growls.

Sherlock looks a little hurt by this turn of events "I thought we were going to have sex, did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, we'll get there, when I say. I own you Mr Holmes. I get to decide what we are doing and when, you will do as you are told." John says in a tone that will brook no argument.

Sherlock's eyes become wide and his mouth drops open in surprise at John's show of dominance.

"You are mine! Say you want this." John commands.

"Yes." Sherlock says breathlessly.

"I will mark you, everyone will know you belong to me."

"Yes, yes."

John steps close and reaches behind Sherlock with his left hand, grabbing his buttock and squeezing it hard.

"This is mine, I can do whatever I want with it."

"Yes, John, yes." Sherlock gasps, his pupils blown wide and a blush appearing on his cheeks.

John steps away again and orders, "I want you naked on the bed in five seconds or you will be punished." Knowing that it will be impossible for Sherlock to comply. 

Sherlock just stares at him so John cocks his head and growls "Are you disobeying me already?"

Sherlock shakes his head rapidly so John says "Right, five seconds, go!"

Sherlock hurries to remove his clothes as fast as he can, but he is wearing a full suit so by the time he has tackled his belt and the concealed buttons on his fly along with the buttons on his shirt and at the cuffs it is closer to thirty seconds before he is lying down. Miles of pale skin spread-eagled on the bed, his cock standing proud and hard, the tip wet and leaking. John can barely tear his eyes away, but, time for Sherlock to be taught a lesson.

"Too slow. Now I'm going to have to punish you."

Sherlock shivers in anticipation and whispers "Yes, please.."

John smirks and reaches down to Sherlock's discarded trousers, he slowly draws the belt out of its loops and folds it in half so that he is holding both ends in his hand. The whole time Sherlock is watching him intently biting and licking his lips.

"On your front." John barks, and Sherlock obeys instantly.

Pulling his arm back John hits Sherlock's buttock with the belt, just hard enough to sting and cause a faint red mark to appear on the perfect skin. The detective hisses at the pain and flinches away instinctively, but moves back into position again straight away. John hits him twice more with the belt drawing moans and hisses from the younger man who is grasping handfuls of the sheets and writhing on the bed.

"That's enough." He declares, "Back by the door."

Sherlock climbs off of the bed, and John notes how he looks longingly at the belt as it is laid down on the nightstand. Once Sherlock is in front of the door John orders "Down."

Sherlock drops to his knees and looks up at John, his expression is completely open, showing complete trust. John is still fully clothed, but his erection is straining against his trousers. He pulls them open and eases his cock out of the gap.

"Hands behind your back, open up!" He commands and pushes his cock into Sherlock's mouth, pushing the man's head back until it is pressed up against the door. John thrusts in and out feeling his pleasure building as he uses Sherlock's mouth. With his hands behind his back and his head trapped in position Sherlock cannot do anything but take it. He is looking up at John in total adoration and is doing his best to rub his tongue along the underside of John's shaft. Just as John reaches his peak he pulls out and grasping Sherlock's hair firmly to hold his head in place paints his face with his seed.

John uses a finger to scoop some of the come up and orders "Lick it." Sherlock eagerly licks the finger clean, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it obscenely.

John picks up Sherlock's discarded pants and wipes his face with them, then leans down and gives single firm tug to Sherlock's leaking cock, causing him to cry out with pleasure. When John releases him again Sherlock whimpers and pleads "Please, John, touch me."

John smirks, “You love this, me, taking control, giving yourself over to me.”

“Please.” Sherlock breathes, his hands twitching behind his back.

"No talking." John commands, and Sherlock's jaw snaps closed. John opens a drawer and pulls out a ball gag that he had hidden there in preparation for this. Sherlock gasps in surprise but manages to stop himself from commenting.

"Now that we have finished with your mouth you will wear this. If you are in genuine distress I expect you to snap your fingers, otherwise I don't want to hear any more from you." He puts the gag on and tightens the buckle holding it firmly in place. 

"Now, do you want a kiss?"

Sherlock tries to convey his confusion with his eyes, how can they kiss with this gag in place?

"I said do you want a kiss?"

Sherlock narrows his eyes slightly but nods.

"Good boy, up on the bed, hands and knees."

Sherlock gets into position and stays there trembling in desperation for release, his cock is aching and dripping onto the bed.

John opens Sherlock's drawer and takes out two of Sherlock's pairs of handcuffs, and then attaches both of Sherlock's wrists to the headboard. He slaps Sherlock's arse firmly, laughing at the way that Sherlock gasps around the gag in response.

"Now for that kiss." He says kneeling in the bed behind Sherlock between his legs. He pushes Sherlock's legs further apart to give him access, then plunges forward for an obscene kiss to Sherlock's entrance. His tongue licking the rim with soft flicks followed by firmer pressure as his tongue flattens.

Sherlock tries to shout in surprise, but is defeated by the gag, they have never done this before, he should feel self conscious, but he has given himself over body and soul to John so he will willingly surrender to whatever John wants. 

He starts keening and trying to push his hips back towards the warm wetness of John's mouth, so John pulls away and commands "Stay still, or I stop." He goes back to work, teasing with his tongue and running his hands up the insides of Sherlock's thighs until they reach the top, he begins to tug and stroke Sherlock's balls, but refuses to give his cock any attention. He pushes his tongue in past the tight ring of muscle for the first time. He probes harder and hears Sherlock whine in frustration at the invasion, it is almost enough, but not quite and it is maddening.

Pulling back briefly he orders "Patience pet, you are not to come until my cock is buried in your arse. Let's just enjoy ourselves a little longer first shall we?"

John continues to tease Sherlock with lips, tongue, fingers, drawing him right to the edge but never letting him fall, over and over, time has lost meaning but it feels like hours. Whenever Sherlock tries to dictate the pace, pushing back onto Johns fingers or arching onto his touch, John barks an order and stops, leaving Sherlock trembling with need, desperately whimpering until John judges the punishment has been enough and resumes. 

Somewhere along the way John loses his clothes and rubs his naked chest over Sherlock's bare back, drawing warmth to pool between his legs. He keeps going, worshipping the helpless man, chained and entirely at his mercy, until the sight of Sherlock's trembling body opening for him, his sweat slicked skin, and the sounds of his moans around the gag cause John to become hard for the second time.

John purposely brushes his cock against the inside of Sherlock's thigh, holding back a whimper at the sensation. The pitch of Sherlock's moans changes, higher, more desperate now that he knows release is near. He is still on all fours and hangs his head to look under his body at John.

“None of that, eyes front!” John barks, and Sherlock stiffens, lifting his head and trying so very hard to stay still.

John slicks himself with one hand while the other continues it's assault on Sherlock's prostate, gently, so gently, rubbing over the little nub to distract him while John prepares. The sounds he is making have turned to sobs, but the way he is pushing back onto John's fingers (against orders, but John can't bear to hold off any longer to issue a punishment) tell him it is desperation rather than pain.

In one movement John removes his fingers and slams his cock into Sherlock. He grips Sherlock's hips hard and pushes deep, pounding into him again and again. He is sure he will leave bruises against Sherlock's buttocks, and there will be finger marks on his hips, proof of John's claim over him. Sherlock is whining, drool dripping over his chin and puffs of air forced out of him with every thrust.

The bed starts to creak, and even the old floorboards give the occasional groan, adding to the sounds of skin slapping, and handcuffs rattling against the headboard.

“I own you. You are mine. No one else. I love you.” John growls, punctuating each statement with a thrust, then changes the angle to hit Sherlock's prostate and just continues over and over “I love you.” Sherlock sounds like he is going to explode, his every muscle is taut and he is grabbing desperately at the headboard, his knuckles turning white.

John reaches around to find Sherlock's cock, it is slick with precome and harder than John has ever known it. He grasps it firmly and strokes in time to the thrusts of his hips. Once, twice, three times, and Sherlock is coming, pulses of hot semen covering John's hand and the bed below. Sherlock is almost shrieking through the gag, and the way he tightens and pulses around John’s cock causes his rhythm to falter, his hips to stutter, and then for him to fill Sherlock with his release, leaning over his back and moaning into his skin.

In the stillness afterwards they listen to the sounds of their breathing, ragged at first, then gradually slowing, calming, coming back to themselves. John allows himself a minute to come down then slips out of Sherlock's body and climbs off of the bed. 

He uncuffs Sherlock from the headboard, rubbing his wrists regretfully at the red, chaffed skin and then removes the gag. He expects an eruption of words, praise, complaints, anything really, Sherlock has never been forced to be quiet for so long and so he expects something. Instead Sherlock just stares at him with his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide as if in shock.

“You ok love?”

Sherlock sits back on his heels and rubs at his jaw, then opens and closes his mouth several times stretching the muscles that have been held immobile for so long. Then he smiles, the most beautiful open smile John has ever seen and nods, then suddenly his eyes droop and his head drops forwards, although the smile remains. John shuffles forward on the bed on his knees, heedless of the mess on the sheets, to hold his love. He cradles him in his arms and murmurs into his hair, words of love, of praise, he doesn’t really know what they are but it doesn't seem to matter. After a few minutes he feels a puff of breath against his skin and hears the accompanying whisper, just about audible over the sounds of the street outside. “Thank you John.”

He simply holds him tighter. There will be time to talk and clean up later, right now this is all they need.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. Please leave kudos if you did, and even better I would love a little comment of you have a few seconds to spare.
> 
> Have a lovely day <3


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